Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Maybe You Won't Get What I am Trying to Say.

I am laying awake and thinking. I am wondering why I am not brave sometimes.

At critical times, I am cowardly.

Would you like to journey into my thoughts for a moment?

You see, I am a wonderful woman. God loves me, and I love Him. I am someone worth fighting for. I know when things are going wrong and I also know when things are going right. I know when I am disappointed, but I also see all of the amazing and miraculous things that go right.

I know it is very hard to be sick for 8 months with something doctors can't seem to figure out. I know this. I know that everything I do every day comes at a price. I know that sometimes, I don't have enough to pay the price, and I look up to heaven and ask Him to pay it for me, and He does.

Yet instead of congratulating myself and therefore my God at the end of the day for all I was willing to accomplish in spite of the price--- I tell myself it wasn't enough.

Cowardly.

Instead of basking in happiness and joy at the woman I am becoming through this trial, I look over at my pile of laundry and let it tell me that I am not a good wife. I let the unclean floors tell me I am not a good mother. I let uncleaned dishes and children who complained about having to go to bed (really? I mean, it happens every night! It shouldn't be a surprise...) say that I am not a good homemaker. That I am not a good mother.

Isn't it easy to acknowledge where we fall short? And isn't taking the easy way out cowardly?

Tonight, I was lying in my bed with a book, feeling so exhausted from my sickness, paying a price I could hardly bear to pay for the efforts I squeezed out of my will today. And all I could think about was the way I didn't fold the laundry today. Not one scrap of it. I also have a few dirty dishes in my sink and my floors are GROSS!!!! I kept telling myself that I was a failure and a burden on my family. That they deserve better than me. It was weighing on my chest so much that I felt it was actually crushing.

My husband came in then and demanded my attention. I didn't want to give it. I was taking the cowardly way out, dwelling on my shortcomings deep down, and also trying to drown it out with a book and it was taking all of my concentration! But he kept asking for my attention and I gave it, though unwillingly.

He asked what was bothering me. I told him I was just feeling so frustrated over the way I am a failure.

He told me I was not a failure. I pointed at the pile of laundry as proof.

He began listing off the things I did do and keeping track of it on his hands. He listed simple things like how my boys were fed, showered, and in pajamas. How I put them to bed. How I made dinner. How I made dessert. How I made breakfast. How I cleaned three toilets, two bathtubs, and two bathroom sinks. How I dusted the whole house and deep cleaned the lights (They were so gross). How I watched children for a friend. How I sent out invitations to a game night at our house this weekend. How I made sure the kids did homework, practiced the piano, and played outside. By the time he got to the forties, he told me I could stop listing things I HAD accomplished because, "Now you are just showing off..."

He lightened my heart with truth. What I had accomplished was all worth it. But what should make me even more proud is that I did these things at a high cost. It is not easy. Yet I do it.

It takes bravery to tell myself that instead of telling myself I am not good enough.

People expect you to be hard on yourself. People expect you to not thing highly of yourself.

And believe me, most of the time I dwell on what I don't do.

But I think my husband taught me something tonight.

He taught me that I am wonderful. That I do many great things. And as I think of it more deeply, I know that I do great things at a great price. That is making me stronger. When I lie in bed paying the price, I can lift my voice up to heaven and ask for patience and endurance through it. I am always helped. God is good that way.

I am going to try harder to be brave. To see myself as a valued daughter of God. A good person who gives what she has, and sometimes a bit more, because the Lord is with me. It is scary because it is not the norm.

But I don't want to be a coward. I want to be brave and see myself as God sees me every day.

5 comments:

That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, thought it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.

I can't believe it's been 8 months of not knowing what is going on! Surely that is a trial of faith. I pray that you will be well again soon. I know that the Lord is mindful of your trial and that it can not keep you from meeting the measure of your creation. Yes, be brave, my friend! :)

On a lighter note, if I had done half of the things you did yesterday I would have made a crown for myself, and I'm not even sick! Perhaps, for me, being brave is expecting more of myself. ha ha.

This is so inspiring to read because there are so many nights when I give myself that same kind of mental abuse. Thank goodness for good husbands who see a little more clearly during these times. I will take the challenge to be a little more brave along with you. I will try to see the good in me, and see what I HAVE done. Thanks Utter girl. Lots of love!

Oh Chels! I am so sorry! You are an inspiration to me as well, I totally get down on myself and tell myself those same things! Yet in reality I know that I did all I could do, I don't know how you do what you do especially with your health problems. You are amazing! If I lived closer I would come and mop your floors and let you kiss Pax's squishy baby cheeks b/c I know you love squishy cheeks! Hugs!